


Sett

by Nyyrikki



Series: Word of the day [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt Kirk, M/M, some actual plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyyrikki/pseuds/Nyyrikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jim has worked for the dealer for years, ever since the Vulcans conquered Earth. --</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He's considered quitting, of course he has, but what else is he to do with his life? Jim has been a courier for a quarter of his life, and he really doesn't have many skills he could use to walk the straight and narrow. He can run, he can hide, and he can hack things. Even a genius with considerable experience with computers and other electronics can have a hard time finding a clean job, especially if said experience was acquired evading watchmen.</i>
</p>
<p>Inspired by Wiktionary's word of the day (July 30th).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sett

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea how a weird little word like that inspired, well, whatever this turned out to be. I just know it went something like ‘badger tunnels + paving > storm drains > this whole story’. I may have been playing too much Mirror’s Edge and Catalyst this summer…
> 
> This was written entirely on the go with an app I have in my phone, hence why it looks a bit different from the usual.

 

**Sett**   _noun_

1\. The system of tunnels that is the home of a badger.

2\. The pattern of distinctive threads and yarns that make up the plaid of a Scottish tartan.

3\. A small, square-cut piece of quarried stone used for paving and edging.

 

 

It's a straight forward job. Meet the sender at the predetermined location at the agreed time. Do not be late. Take the package. Run it to the next courier. Do not be seen. Do not be late. Give the package to the next courier. Get the stamp and you will be paid for your services. Do. Not. Be. Late.

 

The system works. The first courier never sees the receiver and the second courier never sees the sender. Their identities are better protected this way. The dealer gets half their reward up front. This way they can pay the couriers. The first courier gets their stamp from the second courier and turns it in for the reward. The dealer knows the package has moved forward. If the second courier works for the dealer, they get their stamp from the receiver and turn it in for the reward. The dealer knows the package has been received and gets the second half of their reward. If the second courier is a private one, the dealer gets the second half after the first courier has turned in their stamp. The dealer is not responsible for the second courier or the package once it's given to the private envoy.

   The dealer's own couriers are the only ones who deal with the dealer face to face. Clients are the ones most likely to get caught by the watchmen, so the dealer keeps their identity from the clients by having them only deal with couriers.

   The couriers are the second link, but a much less weak one than the clients. The couriers can run and hide. Sometimes the dealer loses a courier to the watchmen, but the couriers never see the dealer's face. Even if the watchmen look into a courier's mind, all information they find of the dealer is the sound of their voice as it crackles through comms and the last place the dealer used as stamps' hand-over spot. Every time a courier fails to check in on time the dealer has to relocate and purge the comms to shake the watchmen. This is why you never check in late.

   Jim has worked for the dealer for years, ever since the Vulcans conquered Earth. He was one of the dealer's first couriers and helped set up secure comms to get the system running more smoothly. At first, right after the invasion, everyone was scared of the new rulers and most clients used the dealer's services to deliver messages between underground resistance movements. Some still do, but after more than four years of peace the resistance against the empire has died down. Back then the job was actually safer. It was easier to run the packages in the chaos and commotion. Now the clients are mostly members of the black market syndicate and the few other criminals still practicing. With crime rates at an all-time low, the watchmen have little else to do but to keep an eye at known couriers and try to catch the dealer. It's not that what they're doing is illegal, per se, but the dealer and some couriers could be charged with accessory to a lot of crimes they don't even know are happening, all because of the letters and small packages they handle. Having worked for the dealer for almost five years, Jim is right up there on the wanted -list.

   He's considered quitting, of course he has, but what else is he to do with his life? Jim has been a courier for a quarter of his life, and he really doesn't have many skills he could use to walk the straight and narrow. He can run, he can hide, and he can hack things. Even a genius with considerable experience with computers and other electronics can have a hard time finding a clean job, especially if said experience was acquired evading watchmen. He knows his file has been flagged as well, so no one in their right mind would hire him. So, Jim just keeps running and hopes that by the time he gets too old to act as courier, the dealer will need someone to take over the business.

   The dealer gives Jim the most important deliveries, the ones that have the potential to ruin peoples' lives if the courier is caught. It's an honour as well as a huge responsibility. He's been in his fair share of chase-downs and has had as many close calls as one with this many runs under their belt can be expected to have. The difference is, most couriers are done when they get in a chase mid job. The tight schedule for check-ins and the fact that watchmen are smart and quick means that only a few couriers have managed to make the delivery without getting caught if they're being chased by watchmen. Jim holds the record with 27 chased deliveries. The watchmen sometimes pay him and other couriers visits and pat them down, but as long as they don't get caught mid delivery with possibly illegal packages, they're safe.

 

   Jim was sitting on the roof of an old, abandoned factory building, leaning against a crumbling chimney and catching his breath. His part of the delivery went smoothly, but the second courier had been caught. Christine was one of the quickest, but she had run into a trap. Jim had been on his way to turn in his stamp when the dealer had commed in that Chris had missed her check-in. He had turned around on the spot, but it hadn't been a minute before he already had a watchman on his tail. He had been too close to hand-over spot to avoid them completely. It wasn't as bad to get caught with a stamp as with a delivery, but if they had Christine they might figure he was the first courier. He had lucked out; the watchman must have been new because he hadn't called for re-enforcements. Jim could shake one Vulcan just fine, the problems came if they started hunting him like a pack of wolves. This time he had been able to lose the watchman in the alleys.

   It’s days like these when he considers quitting.

   His comm clicked twice. It was a sign from the dealer that the comms were back up and that there was a job for him, if he was in a position to take it. Jim clicked twice back and got the coordinates of the new hand-over spot as an answer. Usually couriers went straight to the client, but sometimes the dealer would have specific instructions or info that they preferred to give face to face. So, Jim pushed himself up and headed down from the roof. He jogged down an alley, wove his way through a busy street until he could slip into another side street, stayed to the shadows for a couple more blocks until he was sure no one was following him. He slipped through a broken window down at street level and landed in a dark, dirt-floored basement. He jogged lightly to a hole in the brick wall and flung himself down a ladder into a concrete-lined tunnel barely big enough to stand in, lit with dim lights hooked to the walls. No one knew what they had originally been for, but couriers used these tunnels on a daily basis.

   Down a tunnel, turn left, straight for a ways, turn right, left, and through a hole into a small chamber with a wooden door on the opposite wall. There was a smaller hatch on the door. Jim knocked twice, and the hatch opened to reveal a masked figure.

"Hey. Sorry about Chris" he said, handing in his stamp.

"Hey, Jim. Glad you made it" a melodic female voice replied from behind the black mask, fashioned in the likeness of a raven. The dealer took the stamp and handed back a credit chit.

"So, what's this new job you got for me?"

"It's a night run, I don't have many who can handle those. Pretty standard, get the package and deliver to a private courier. And Jim" the dealer said as he already took a step away from the door to get back, "the private courier's gonna be Vulcan. Should be ok, but keep your eyes peeled, baby boy."

Jim flashed her a grin. "Always do, mama bird. Send me the coordinates."

   The sun was already beginning to set when Jim headed up to the streets and toward the client's coordinates. A pretty public place at the edge of town, street level. As if night runs weren't dangerous enough already with watchmen on every corner. He walked toward the coordinates, trying to attract as little attention as possible, and took a look at the second courier's coordinates. Underground. That meant he could use the storm drains to avoid being seen. They were a risky route if you didn't know your way around, but Jim had been doing this for long enough to know them like he knew the streets.

   He took his time getting there, but met the client right on time all the same. It was a new client, a short man with a bit of a belly, the collar of his overcoat turned up and the brim of his hat shadowing his face. Jim couldn't make out his features apart from a beak-like nose and thin lips, but the man was obviously human. He kept glancing around, checking his surroundings, clearly nervous. Most of the dealer's customers were regulars, but the new clients were always jittery.

   "Client found" Jim muttered to his comm and got a click in response as acknowledgement. He walked up to the man and reached out his hand. The client fumbled with the front of his coat and handed him an unmarked envelope. Jim nodded and clicked his comm, swirling around on his feet and starting down the deserted road toward the storm drain entrance. Soon the soft thumping of his feet hitting the pavement echoed in the huge concrete tunnel, accompanied by the occasional splash when he hit a small puddle on the damp floor. He saw one homeless man sleeping in the corner of a side tunnel, but otherwise his path was clear. It wasn't that surprising; the watchmen didn't come down here unless they absolutely had to. When he got close to the second courier's coordinates Jim started looking around, and sure enough, in a small side tunnel, at the bottom of a ladder leading up to street level, he saw the courier. And at the exact given coordinates, no less. That didn't happen often.

   The Vulcan was a young man, perhaps a couple of years older than Jim. He was tall and lithe in build, clad in black from head to toe. His long, shiny black hair was tied into a low ponytail, exposing the delicately curved ears. His black diamond eyes followed him as Jim slowed down and came to a halt in front of him, clicking his comm to check in with the dealer. He handed over the letter. The Vulcan grabbed it, long fingers brushing against his own as he gave Jim his stamp. The touch was barely there, as soft as the wing of a butterfly, but it sent a spark of electricity running through him, tickling up his arm. His breath caught in his throat and the Vulcan drew back his hand back in a flash of pale skin. The gleaming charcoal eyes met his for a second, and then the courier leapt up the ladder and vanished through the drain hatch with a swirl of black fabric.

   It took Jim a few seconds to get his breath back. Clutching the stamp he finally tore his eyes from where the Vulcan had vanished and started jogging down the storm drain again. He thumbed his comm.

"Package delivered. Heading back now."

"Copy that, baby boy" crackled the response. "Take a detour and try not to come up too soon, lots of eyes on the streets tonight."

"Thanks for the heads up. Be there in 20."

 

Three days later found Jim curled up in his nest in the attic room of a warehouse in the docks. It was a small room up at the end of the hall, right under the roof. Probably originally meant to be an office or storage room, it had been unused when Jim had made it his home. Even the stairs up there had been taken apart to make room for the cargo they handled down there. He had boarded the door shut just in case. The workers sometimes saw him come and go through the round window at the end of the building, and Jim had heard them call him everything from monkey-boy to a pigeon - essentially a flying rat, then - but no one bothered him as long as he didn't bother them.

   It was around midday. Dust danced across the beam of light flooding in through the dirty window. Jim was lying on his pile of pillows - it was impossible to haul a mattress up here - when his comm crackled to life.

"Jim?"

He reached for the earpiece and tapped in.

"Hey, pretty bird. What's up?"

"I have a job for you for the afternoon, second half of a delivery." The dealer's sigh huffed over the channel. "I had Pax on it but the watchmen bagged him this morning."

Jim's stomach dropped. "Again?"

"Yeah. They're getting pretty trigger-happy with those stun guns. My rep's going to suffer if I keep losing couriers like this."

"And here I thought you actually cared about your friends" Jim chuckled weakly, not quite managing to sound truly amused.

"Me? Friends with an insufferable brat like you? You wish!" the dealer laughed over the comms, lifting Jim's spirits a bit. "I'll send you the details. And be careful, baby boy. I've lost too many friends this week."

A sad smile grazed his lips. "Don't worry, mama bird. I'll be fine."

 

It was a routine job. First courier was on time, Jim had a clear run through the factory district, the receiver was content. He turned in his stamp, got the credit chit and wormed his way through the tunnels until he could slip back up to street level. The sun was hanging low and shadows were long by the time he surfaced. A shiver crawled up his neck when he closed the hatch he had used to come back up. Jim sidestepped into the shadows and looked around, spotting a tall figure looking his way at the other end of the alleyway. He edged closer. Each step he took made it clearer and clearer; it was the Vulcan courier. He stopped a few meters away, a bubbling feeling in his chest, and the two studied each other in silence. Jim opened his mouth, just about to ask why he was being watched, but was interrupted by running steps echoing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and seeing a watchman who clearly recognized him, Jim made an instinctual call.

   He grabbed the young Vulcan's hand, sparks flying up his fingers, and sprinted down the street. The man ran behind him, allowing Jim to guide him through the streets. They flew through the city, losing their pursuer in the alleys, two pairs of feet bouncing off the stones until they were at the docks. Jim climbed up the fire escape to the roof of the warehouse next to the one that held his nest and sat down on the ridge of the roof, finally letting go of the Vulcan's hand. They sat there, side by side, panting. He stole a look at the other man, hair shiny in the late sun, lashes throwing shadows on the high cheekbones.

"I'm Jim" he managed to say between breaths.

"Spock" the Vulcan introduced himself.

"So," Jim started after a few minutes of catching his breath, getting a raised eyebrow in response. "Why were you watching me?"

Spock looked away for a moment before glancing down at Jim's hands.

"I was… curious. I have been thinking about you."

His voice was deep and smooth. He reached out slowly, long fingers gently taking hold of his hand.

"I could feel that you were nearby."

Spock slowly moved his fingers against Jim's. The nerves on his hands buzzed from the contact and he could feel the flush creeping up his cheeks. Everyone knew about Vulcans and their hands. _What the-_ Jim was a bit of a flirt but this guy was smoother than molten chocolate. The thing was, it didn't seem as much a flirt as a confession. _What the shit?_ They had met once, this was literally their first conversation, and Jim was totally hot for Spock. Then again, Jim had never been one to play hard to get.

   He moved his fingers against Spock's, whose eyes shot up to meet his. Jim reached out and cupped the pale cheek, leaning closer to the ever so slightly green-tinged lips.

"Stop me" he breathed, pausing to hover for a second before closing the tiny gap between their lips.

   It was perfect. Their lips locked together like they were made for each other. Jim's eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed the softness of Spock's lips, the wet heat of his mouth, pleasure assaulting him from the human kiss and the Vulcan kiss alike. It was like nothing he had experienced before, the passion and the different sensations overloading his brain.

   After an eternity they broke apart, both breathless and shocked. Jim huffed, smiling shyly, and the corner of Spock's mouth twitched upward. There was a playful glimmer in his onyx eyes.

"Come"

Jim pushed himself up and took a couple of running steps before jumping the small gap between the warehouse roofs. Spock followed after him. Jim dropped down to the windowsill and unlocked the window to his nest before slipping in through the circular opening. He held it open for Spock, who dropped down to the windowsill with the grace of a cat and slipped in through the window. Jim barely had the window shut when they were already on each other, peeling off shirts and fumbling with buttons, falling gracelessly on Jim's pile of pillows and blankets.

 

Jim watched the sun rise and colour the sky in brilliant shades of red, yellow, orange and purple. He was resting his head on Spock's stomach, listening to the fast beat of the heart in his side. His scent was an intoxicating mixture of spices and citrus and man. Spock's arm was resting on his shoulder, fingertips drawing lazy circles on his skin.

"Jim?"

They had spent the night making love and having whispered conversations about whatever came to mind. Jim had learned that Spock liked stars and cats and tea and looking at things with microscopes, and that he had a pet sehlat when he was little.

"Hmm?"

They had, eventually, managed to get a few hours of sleep as well.

"How did you become a courier?"

Jim didn't turn to look at Spock, just nestled in more comfortably against his side.

"My parents died the day you guys arrived. Their ship crash-landed. I was left homeless in the chaos and found myself hiding in the tunnels under the city. I stumbled on the dealer's lair, and started working for her to keep myself fed. I was fourteen." Jim was quiet for a moment, drawing abstract patterns on Spock's hip with the tip of his finger. "What about you? I've never seen a Vulcan courier before."

Spock stopped the movement of his fingers, as if hesitating a second. He moved his hand away from Jim's shoulder and up to his neck, starting to play with his hair.

"I did not plan for it to happen. I came to Earth to work, against my father's wishes. My employer needed someone reliable to retrieve the package from another courier, you, and I volunteered. Perhaps it was destiny."

"I don't believe in destiny, but I'm glad you did volunteer" Jim replied.

They continued lying in each other's arms, watching the sky brighten to a brilliant blue.

"Jim, I need to leave soon."

Jim turned and snaked up Spock's body, peppering kisses everywhere along the way until he was lying on top, face to face with Spock. He kissed the Vulcan's cheeks, his forehead, his brows and his nose before Spock cupped his head, gently but firmly, and guided it down so their lips finally met in a slow, building kiss.

   Jim's comm clicked twice, but he ignored it.

   Spock's hands slid down Jim's body to his sides and curled around to the back to cup his buttocks, pulling him down so that their rapidly growing erections slid together, creating friction that only fuelled his arousal.

"Jim?" the comm crackled quietly.

Jim started snaking back down Spock's body, stopping to pay special attention to each olive nipple, teasing with his tongue and teeth before continuing his way down. He planted kisses on Spock's hips and then slid down, nibbling his way up the inner thighs.

"Jim, you're starting to make me worry. Come in, baby boy" the dealer's voice chattered through comms.

"Jim, I believe you should-" Jim made Spock gasp in the middle of his sentence by slowly tracing his tongue between the double ridges of his now fully erect cock. Without even lifting his head from Spock's groin, he fumbled around for the earpiece and found it on the floor.

"Kinda busy here, mama bird" he answered the comm, his voice coming through thick. He lowered his lips down to almost touch Spock's balls as he spoke. "What's up?"

Jim dipped his head down and traced the rim of Spock's anus with the tip of his tongue, delighted with the moan that escaped Spock's lips.

"Oh good, you're not dead. I need to know if you can do a night run tonight." the dealer commed in.

Jim had to draw away his tongue to respond, but as compensation he slipped his finger down and past the puckered muscle, inside Spock, moving it back and forth in search of his target.

"Yeah, I'll do it."

His finger grazed Spock's prostate and the Vulcan gasped loudly while he spoke. A satisfied smirk broke in Jim's face.

"Oh my god kid, I don't want to know what's happening in there. Talk to you later."

Jim tossed the earpiece across the room and brought his lips down to tease along the side of Spock's cock. He slipped in another finger and repeated the earlier motion and had Spock whimpering with need.

"Jim" he whispered, pleading. It was all Jim needed.

He wrapped his lips around Spock's green-tinged erection and sucked it in. He took as much of the long shaft in his mouth as he could, wrapping his fingers around the base. He worked the muscles in his throat, licking and sucking, working the base with his hand and playing with Spock's ass with the fingers still wrapped in the heat. Spock thrust into his mouth, touching his fingers to the back of Jim's head. He gasped as the motion of his thrust had Jim's fingers move against his prostate. Jim tightened his lips around Spock and sucked. The passage around his finger tightened and he tasted the salty seed on his tongue when Spock came with a final thrust. Jim swallowed eagerly and drew his fingers from Spock's ass. He cleaned Spock's cock with his tongue and finally drew himself up to face Spock again.

"You're gonna be in a hurry if you don't get going" Jim smirked at the spent Vulcan lying under him, ignoring his own achingly hard erection.

"True" Spock breathed, but he was not so easily distracted. Long fingers wrapped around Jim's cock, stroking it slowly. Spock switched their places, pushing Jim down and crawling on top, raising the fingers of his other hand to Jim's face.

"May I?"

Jim nodded, not knowing what exactly was about to happen. Spock arranged his fingers on Jim's face and after a second he could feel something, like a flutter against his consciousness. He didn't get a chance to examine it or to think about it further. His brain exploded with a supernova of pleasure, his body shook with the most intense orgasm of his entire life so far. For a second or an eternity, Jim had no idea, but the pleasure washed over him and left him as a panting pile on the pillows, boneless and completely spent.

"That was… amazing" he panted. "And kind of cheating."

A tiny shadow of a smirk tugged at Spock's lips. His eyes gleamed with amusement and affection as he removed his fingers and bent to kiss Jim gently.

"I will make it up to you."

He pecked one more kiss in the corner of Jim's mouth and then got up, gathering his clothes from all over the small room.

"I must be on my way now but perhaps…" Spock started, pulling on his clothes as Jim watched him from the floor. There was a slight green flush on his cheeks. "That is, if you are not averse to the idea… perhaps I could come back tonight?"

Jim smiled and pushed himself off the pillows. He reached over and buttoned Spock's pants for him, leaning in for a kiss at the same time.

"I'd like that."

With one final kiss and caress of fingers, Spock opened the window and leapt up to the roof from the windowsill.

 

The client for the night run was the same beak-nosed man as the previous time, waiting at the same spot. Jim didn't like it, it was safer to change spots. Seeing the same client, however, made his stomach bubble with anticipation. If the receiver was the same as well, he might see Spock again. It was silly, they had already agreed to see again after the delivery, but he felt it all the same. The second courier's coordinates were different, but again such that he could go through the storm drains.

   The run seemed to pass quickly, the homeless man the only person he saw on the way, and before he knew he was already slowing down. The second courier was indeed Spock, standing at the bottom of a different ladder than before. Jim handed over the envelope. It was heavier this time, and there was a lump. Perhaps a flash drive or something, it really wasn't any of his business. As Spock took the envelope and gave him his stamp, he brushed his fingers against Jim's. There was a smile in the black eyes, and then he was gone, slipped through a hatch once again.

"Package delivered" he said into his comm, continuing jogging down the storm drain. "Coming to stamp hand-over now."

"Copy that. Streets are looking clear tonight" the dealer replied.

Jim climbed up to street level from the next hatch and down to the couriers' tunnels from an entrance a few blocks off. He turned in his stamp, got his credit chit and said goodnight to the dealer. When he finally dropped down to his windowsill and slipped in through the window his limbs were heavy with fatigue and his lids pulling down with the anticipation of sleep. He left the window ajar and stripped down to his underwear before crawling under a blanket and slumping down on the pillows. He was asleep the second he closed his eyes.

   He woke up sometime in the middle of the night to the soft click of the window closing. A few seconds later Spock slipped under the blanket behind him, gathering Jim in his arms.

"I am sorry, _ashaya._ It was not my intention to wake you."

Jim mumbled something as soft lips brushed against his neck. He settled down, happy with the strong arms caressing him, and fell back to sleep.

 

"Spock?"

They were sitting on the roof of the warehouse, watching the bustle of the docks below. Jim was drinking instant coffee and Spock had a cup of tea. Jim had went to Chinatown for the tea the previous afternoon.

"Yes, Jim?"

"What did you mean when you said you could feel me nearby the other day?"

Spock sipped his tea, looking thoughtful.

"I am not sure how I was able to feel your presence. You recall the feeling when our hands touched the first time?"

Jim nodded. "Like a spark of electricity."

"Yes" Spock confirmed. "It is a sign of two extremely compatible minds meeting. It is possible that after the contact our minds called to each other, making me aware that you were near. I have not heard of such occurring, but it seems the most logical explanation."

Jim sipped his coffee and looked out to the glimmering sea, lost in thought. After turning things over in his mind for a moment, he spoke again.

"I've heard that Vulcans don't do casual relationships, that you sort of… mate for life? Is it true?"

A wave of uncertainty crossed Spock's features, but was quickly replaced by affection and something else, something akin to hopefulness. He reached out and took Jim's hand in his, gentle fingers slipping between his own.

"I do not wish to pressure you in any way. I am aware that humans are prone to… fear of missing out? But yes, it is true that most Vulcans spend their entire life with one partner, someone with a compatible mind."

A nervous flutter tickled Jim's stomach. "And you… you think that I'm the one for you?"

Spock ran his fingers against Jim's, eyes cast down and a green flush tinting the tips of his ears.

"I am aware that you may not feel the same, even if it is my wish that you do, and I certainly do not want you to feel obligated to tell me that you feel the same. But yesterday, when I touched your mind, and each time I feel it through your skin, even… your mind is unlike any I have felt before. It calls to me, your touch is like a narcotic to me. I find I do not wish to give this up, give you up."

Jim tried to swallow past the lump that had risen in his throat. A warm feeling pooled in his stomach, under the nervous flutter. Affection, a tiny wave of possessiveness, and something he couldn't put a name on, something he hadn't felt since the last time he hugged his mother.

"Shit, Spock. That's… that's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me." Jim set down his coffee mug and cupped Spock's cheek, leaning closer so that their foreheads touched. "I don't know what you see in me, and I'm afraid you'll discover that I'm not as great as you think. But for what it's worth, I do feel the same. It makes no sense and it kinda scares me, but I can't think of a reason why I'd ever want anyone but you."

"It is worth everything, Jim" Spock whispered and kissed him softly.

Spock's communicator beeped in his pocket. He exhaled, almost a sigh, and closed his eyes for a moment before drawing back. He took out the communicator and flipped it open, raising it to his ear.

"Yes?"

A moment passed, and then Spock went white. His posture stiffened, face going carefully blank.

"Yes sir."

He flipped shut the communicator and pocketed it, unfocused eyes cast to the sea.

"Spock?" Jim asked, worry creeping up his spine. "What is it?"

Spock frowned and seemed to regain some of his composure, even if he was still pale. He turned to Jim but avoided looking him in the eye.

"I must go, I am needed at work."

"Ok" Jim said, nodding. "Will I see you later?"

Spock finally lifted his eyes and met Jim's, mouth opening and closing again before he answered.

"I am uncertain." He leaned in and kissed his forehead. "I will try."

"Ok, well, I'll see you when I see you."

With a final kiss and caress of fingers, Spock set down his mug and got up. He jumped the gap between warehouses and vanished down the rusty ladder, leaving Jim to sit on the roof alone with his thoughts, eyes following the daily hustle of dock workers. Spock had seemed upset, and it made him worry, but whatever was happening wasn't really his business and Spock would tell him later if he wanted to. Jim laid down on his back and closed his eyes. The sun warmed his skin and a salty breeze ruffled his hair. _Calm down, Jim. There's nothing to worry about._

   His comm clicked twice. He took out and put on the earpiece and clicked twice back.

"Hey, kiddo" the dealers voice came through.

"Hey, birdie." Jim opened his eyes and followed the cotton ball clouds as they slowly drifted across the sky above. "Whatcha got for me?"

"Another night run. Both coordinates are the same as last night."

"Two nights in a row?" Jim frowned at the clouds. "It's like they _want_ to get caught."

"Yeah, I don't like it either, but I got the feeling that this is really important. Who am I to judge?" The channel crackled as the dealer sighed. "I can tell them no if you won't do it, but right now you're the only one I trust with this."

This probably had something to do with why Spock was so upset. Jim rubbed his face. _Fuck._ "No, no, I'll do it. The pay's good, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Jim."

"I'll see you later."

 

Jim jogged down the dark street but slowed down when he got the client into his view. He was still a ways from the man, so he stepped into the shadows and thumbed his comm.

"Hey, mama bird?"

"What's up, baby boy?" the dealer answered immediately.

"Something stinks here. The client's in the same spot as before, but that's definitely not the same guy."

"You sure?"

"Yeah" Jim replied.

"Okay, a bit weird..." the comm crackled. "But you know, I could've sent a different courier and the client might have felt about it exactly like you're feeling now. Doesn't mean there's anything wrong."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I just don't like it, is all" Jim mumbled, frowning.

"Keep your eyes peeled and ears sharp and you'll be fine, Jim."

"Yeah" he replied. "Going to the client now."

Jim walked quickly out to the man. He was dressed like the previous client, but this one was taller and a bit thinner, and had a nose like a small potato. Jim reached out his hand and was immediately handed a small envelope. There was something inside again. He passed the guy and started running toward the storm drain entrance, clicking his comm for the first check-in.

   Jim slid down the concrete slope to the artificial riverbed and ran inside the storm drain tunnel. The homeless man had relocated somewhere, nowhere to be seen. The soft thumps of his feet hitting the floor were accompanied by dripping sounds and a small splash whenever Jim ran through a puddle. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

   Around the last bend and then he could see Spock standing at the bottom of the ladder, looking unusually anxious. Jim had never seen a Vulcan fidget before. He slowed down and came to a halt in front of Spock, panting slightly. He reached out to give the envelope forward, but Spock didn't take it.

"Jim, I'm sorry" he whispered, sad eyes looking at the outstretched hand.

The tunnel behind Jim filled with the sound of shuffling feet and he whirled around to see half a dozen watchmen surround him, stepping out of side tunnels with phasers pointed at him. He stepped back but only got his hand halfway to the comm to warn the dealer when there was a tight grip on his shoulder, a pressure in the juncture on his neck, and everything went black.

 

Jim came to in a plain grey room, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, slumped against a table with his hands cuffed in his lap. His head was pounding and his neck was sore. He had barely straightened and looked around when the door in the corner opened and a watchman walked in, shutting the door behind him and sitting on the other side of the table. Jim had to swallow down bile rising up in his throat when he realized the watchman was Spock.

"So" Jim croaked, trying to keep his voice level. "You finally got her, didn't you?"

Sadness flashed across Spock's features, quickly schooled back to impassiveness. "Yes."

"How much time am I looking at?" Jim had to bite his teeth together to remain calm.

Spock wove his fingers together on the table. "You are entitled to an attorney to-"

“ _How much time?_ ” Jim interrupted, emphasizing each word.

Spock straightened his already ramrod straight spine even further. "You will not be sent to a detention centre. You will be put into a reintegration centre where your situation will be evaluated and your reintegration to society started."

"Fine" Jim managed to reply through his clenched teeth. His hands were curled to fists and he could feel his nails digging into his palms. If this interview didn't end soon he would break something.

"Jim, I-" the sadness was back in Spock's eyes.

"You know what, Spock" Jim's voice was starting to shake with all the hurt and anger he was trying to contain. "You go fuck yourself. You got me where you wanted me, now leave me alone."

Spock's normally calm features drew to a pained expression. He said nothing, just got up and left the room, leaving Jim shivering in the chair. He forced himself to loosen his fists and let his open palms drop back to his lap. Blood trickled down to his thighs and stained the fabric of his pants.

 

Jim was taken to a reintegration centre, which was basically a grey and white institution full of petty criminals, something of a blend between a prison, a psychiatric hospital and a reception centre. There were guards, doctors, nurses, councillors, basically everything. There were sitting rooms and a library and a yard, and small shared bedrooms that weren't really cells, though they could clearly act as such if needed. Upon arrival Jim went through a basic physical examination, after which he was shown to the bedroom he shared with three other guys. He was given the regulation white and grey clothing and told where he could and could not go before they left him to get settled. Only one of Jim's roommates was there, a twenty-something guy who looked like a drug dealer, reading a book. They introduced each other but after Jim had changed into his new boring clothes he left the guy with his book and went exploring. He had his psych evaluation in a bit, and he wanted to get a feel of where he was before that.

   Jim walked down the hallway, passing bedrooms and sitting areas. There were people sitting in small groups, talking and playing cards. Most looked friendly enough; these were the people who still had a chance at a so-called normal life, the people who had had it rough but hadn't really chosen the life they had lived thus far. Some people who behaved well in prison were moved to reintegration centres as well, but mostly these were people like him, who had lived in the grey area of legality. Men and women had separate bedrooms in different wings, but otherwise everyone was mixed within the facility.

   Jim was just starting to wonder where he was supposed to go for the psych evaluation when someone called his name.

"Jim!"

He turned to see a tall blonde girl jog his way.

"Chris!"

They hugged and got a look from a guard, but the man didn't say anything.

"I heard they finally uprooted our system." Christine said as they started walking again. "I'm sorry Jim, I know you worked for the dealer from the start."

"Do you know what happened to her?" Jim asked.

"I heard they sent her to a different reintegration centre, away from us."

Jim nodded, not knowing what to say. He'd always liked Christine and it was nice to see a familiar face, but being here felt a bit like the floor had just vanished from under him. There was nothing in his life but uncertainty, and that left him with few topics to start a discussion with. Fortunately, Christine seemed to catch his lost look.

"So where are you going? I can show you around."

"Thanks" Jim sighed. "I'm supposed to be at a psych evaluation in a few minutes."

Christine smiled and steered him the right way by his elbow. "This way."

They walked a moment in silence before she started talking again.

"I know you're confused and angry and everything right now, and they probably didn't tell you much about what's going to happen to you, but this place really isn't so bad after the first two days. After your psych evals they will have you talk to a councillor to get a feel of who you are, and then you'll probably take a few tests because I know you didn't finish school so they'll want to see where you're at. And then you'll talk to your councillor some more and maybe to a doctor if your psych evals say you need it, and they'll try to help you find out what you want to do with your life." Christine glanced at him and a small smile brightened her face. "I think I want to go to school and become a nurse. Anyway, it's all about getting you a support system and a plan, so you don't fall back through the cracks once you get out of here."

They arrived at a door marked 'Dr. Ambers'. Christine grabbed his shoulder as they came to a halt and looked him in the eye.

"I really think this system might do good things to our lives. Just give it a chance."

She pat him on the shoulder and left the way they had come without waiting for an answer. Jim watched her retreating ponytail for a moment. _I already had a good thing in my life_ , he thought and turned, knocking on the door. _Turned out to be a huge fucking lie._

 

"Kirk?"

Jim lifted his face from the book. He was sitting in the library, reading about starships. There was a guard standing next to him, looking expectant.

"Yeah?"

"You have a visitor."

Jim closed the book and stood. It must be Christine. She had got out a couple of days ago to attend nursing school. She really had a plan and now the means to execute it. Jim was nowhere near getting out; he had no plan, and with no plan, no chance of getting out.

   The guard buzzed him to the visitors' side and told him his visitor was in the yard. Jim walked through the visiting room and out the open door to the small separate yard. He looked around for Christine's blonde ponytail, but instead of finding his friend his eyes landed on a familiar Vulcan sitting on a bench. His immediate thought was to run away, and he almost did. What prevented him was Spock, turning his head and catching Jim's eye. A shiver ran up his spine.

   Jim took a steadying breath and walked over. He sat down next to Spock, refusing to look at him.

"Why are you here?" he asked, eyes fixed on a butterfly fluttering around a bush.

"Jim, I… I needed to see you." Spock's voice was drawn, tired and sad, nothing like the cool and calm sound Jim was used to. "I know you do not want to see me, but I needed to explain."

"What's there to explain, Spock?" Jim turned his head slightly, looking at Spock's shoes. Tears burned his eyes and warped his vision. "I trusted you and you lied to me. All those things you said on the roof… I actually believed you."

All the raw hurt he had been suffocating flared back to life, tearing at his insides like a tiger's claws.

"You may not believe me, but I never lied to you, Jim. The only thing I was not fully honest with you about was my work. I thought we would have more time, that I would get a chance to explain." Spock's voice was shaky. "I... When I agreed to work on the case I did not expect to fall in love."

Jim looked up and met the wet black eyes, a hot tear rolling down his own cheek. Spock reached out and cupped his cheek, wiping away the tear with his thumb. Jim could feel the familiar low buzz on his nerves at the cotact.

"I meant every word I said to you. These weeks without you have been agony. If you cannot forgive me, I understand, but I had to come. Jim, I am in love with you, will always be in love with you, and I will do everything I can to win your trust again."

Jim closed his eyes, fresh tears trickling down his face. He felt the feather light touch of Spock's lips as he kissed away the tears. Jim allowed his hands to find Spock, to curl around him. He allowed himself to be drawn into an embrace, and then buried his face in the juncture of Spock's neck. They held each other for a long time in silence, until Spock spoke again.

"I am leaving the law enforcement. After what happened, I cannot…" he trailed off, and after a while they broke apart, still holding hands. Spock wiped away the last tears on Jim's face, glimmering black eyes taking in his features like a starving man set before a feast. "Do you have a plan, Jim?"

Jim shook his head. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be a starship captain. I know they don't take people with criminal records on the command track at Starfleet, but I've been looking into engineering. I just don't know if I can, I mean I never finished school and…"

"Jim" Spock said softly, his voice once again calm and smooth. "I have seen your aptitude scores. There is no school on this planet you could not attend."

"Yeah, but-" Jim tried to protest, but Spock cut him off.

"Come with me to San Francisco, Jim. Become an engineer and fly to the stars. I will enrol into the science department." Spock ran his fingers against Jim's and leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Come with me. Let me prove myself to you, for the rest of time if that is what it takes. Just come with me, Jim."

Tears threatened to flood his eyes again, and Jim had to blink them away. He drew a shuddering breath, unbelieving of what he was about to say.

 

"Okay."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this ending left a lot of questions unanswered. I may write a complimenting fic to this one that tells the story from Spock’s POV, which would obviously include all the things relevant to this story that aren’t told here because this is Jim’s POV, and he doesn’t know all the details either. We’ll see.


End file.
